


"just friends"

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BEST FRIENDS...2 BE EXACT...., Choking, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, but gentle emotional choking bc they so would, just bros bein bros, platonically ofc, what could go wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: His name is Keith, he wears a red snapback, and he’s ruining Shiro’s life.He’s also the best thing in Shiro’s life, but admitting that feels a little too close to admitting that he’s in love with his best friend.His best friend, Keith, whose dick is currently in his mouth.





	"just friends"

**Author's Note:**

> cursed image: dom shiro in a snapback. i'm so sorry. OR AM I.
> 
> follow me [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro) on twitter for more sheith, and please give lotsa love to the art that was a Big Inspo for this fic by [@peachykeith](https://twitter.com/peachykeithh/status/1115805732639666176)!

His name is Keith, he wears a red snapback, and he’s ruining Shiro’s life.

He’s also the best thing in Shiro’s life, but admitting that feels a little too close to admitting that he’s in love with his best friend. 

His best friend, Keith, whose dick is currently in his mouth. 

Keith stuffs his hand into his mouth as he slumps forwards against the wall of their dorm and moans, garbled sounds that could be words, lost in his knuckles. Shiro sucks on the swollen crown of Keith’s cock, lets it rest on the flat of his tongue and hums as drool drips down the sides, and over the heavy shadow of his balls between spread thighs where he straddles Shiro’s chest. This is Shiro’s favorite position, with his hands tucked just under the curve of Keith’s ass, squeezing the tops of flexing thighs and letting his fingers tease ever inwards, running over the warm cleft of Keith’s ass until he squirms and pleads. 

Shiro pulls back even further when Keith’s hips jerk forwards, suckling on the tip, tonguing at the sloppy slit until Keith shudders and swears at him. His chin is messy already, but his eyes fall half-shut in anticipation of it getting even messier. Keith’s other hand fists into Shiro’s hair, tugging his forelock back, scrabbling at silver hair and sweaty skin. Shiro spreads Keith’s ass, thumb circling, and sinks down further on his cock, swallowing around it. 

Keith grunts and bangs at the wall with his fist. His crude pleas fall on deaf ears – Keith knows how this goes. After six months of it, they’ve established a rhythm, and they both know Shiro likes to fuck Keith after he’s come once already. He’s softer, that way, takes his cock with needy little noises, and – yeah, okay, no, Shiro can’t think about that right now, or nobody is going to be fucking anyone any time soon. 

Although, he muses as his tongue curls around Keith’s twitching cock with increasing urgency, it probably wouldn’t take long to get hard again with Keith’s ass as the incentive. Or just Keith, in general. Mouth, hand, thighs, fingers, tongue, cock; even just Keith’s eyes on him would be enough. Shiro chances a glance up, at Keith’s flushed face, mouth hanging open and eyes glassy with need, black hair hanging into his face. He’s still wearing that stupid snapback. It makes Shiro’s cock pulse in his briefs, the tip peeking out from under the waistband. 

Following his gaze, Keith glances over his shoulder, and groans when he sees the tented fabric and the pink gleam beneath darker foreskin, body bowing forward, cock dribbling into Shiro’s mouth. “Fuck,” Keith gasps, “you’re so fucking into this – so hard just from blowing me –”

Shiro hums, in both agreement and encouragement, and Keith moans his name and comes in messy spurts, some catching Shiro’s chin and the rest greedily swallowed. Shiro keeps licking until Keith’s hips, held fast in his hands, squirm away. His cock is kinda cute as it softens, Shiro thinks hazily, flopping from Shiro’s wet mouth a little pathetically, spit-shiny and sweet.

When Shiro pushes Keith backwards, he falls easily, landing on the bed with a loud thud and a wanting whine that he’ll deny making, later. Shiro doesn’t wipe his mouth before kissing him, and Keith chases his lips, hands pawing at Shiro’s briefs. “Off, off,” Keith whispers, and Shiro pulls back just to look at him, and smooth the sweaty hair out of his eyes. The snapback is knocked off with the motion, and Shiro snorts before snatching it away and putting it on himself. 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Hot,” he says.

“Hotter on you,” Shiro counters and leans over him again. “You gonna be good for me, baby?”

Keith’s as red as the hat in five seconds flat. “Fuck, man,” he breathes, “you can’t just say shit like that –”

“Just did,” Shiro coos, smacking Keith’s hands away from his waistband before slowly sliding it down himself, until his cock bounces free, a clear droplet shivering at the tip, inches from Keith’s taut belly. “Besides, you think that’s bad? Could be worse.”

Keith licks his lips, eyes darting from his cock to his lips. “I don’t believe you.”

Shiro huffs, sitting back atop him and wrapping a hand around his own cock, squeezing until the droplet falls. “Oh, wait,” Shiro murmurs, “I forgot, it’s you we’re talking about, here. You’d never be good for me, huh? Not when you've been such a little slut, fucking your fist in your bed, right here, last night, when you thought I was asleep —”

Keith makes a sound Shiro’s never heard before, a stuttered, shocked whimper. “Sh —  _ iro, _ I —”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “What? You gonna deny you were so desperate to get off that you couldn’t even jack off in the bathrooms like everyone else? Or did you want me to hear you?” 

Keith’s cheeks are aflame, and under Shiro, his cock is hardening again. “Didn’t know you were awake,” he manages. “Sorry —”

“Oh, are you?” Shiro shakes his head. “If you were sorry you would’ve let me take care of you. Bet you wanted to finger yourself. But you knew you’d be too loud.”

Keith whimpers again. “I didn’t wanna wake you up —”

“What a thoughtful roommate,” Shiro drawls, sliding his thumb over the wet head of his cock, drawing back the foreskin further. “What got you so fuckin’ horny, anyway? Who was it?” 

Keith’s eyes widen. “Nobody,” he gasps, too fast.

“Nobody,” Shiro repeats, and climbs off of him and the bed. Something twists low and ugly in his gut, the way it did last night when he lay awake listening to Keith touch himself, the wet slap of skin on skin cut through with sounds that could almost be a name, but bitten back, like Keith didn’t want anyone to hear, not even himself.

Keith scrambles upright. “Shiro, wait — don’t —”

Shiro pauses; he slides down his briefs and steps out of them, tossing them in the vague direction of the laundry basket. Keith relaxes slightly, but still looks nervous, twitchy. “Did you think I was gonna leave?” Shiro asks, palming his cock lazily as he rummages in his desk drawer for the lube. “Leave you like this, so desperate to be fucked?” 

Keith curls forward, tucking his knees to his chest and peering at Shiro over them. “You look like a real douchebag with that hat,” he says.

Shiro tosses him the lube. “Get yourself ready.”

Keith catches it one-handed, and gapes at him like a fish. “Wha — dude, what?”

“You heard me.” Shiro sits down at his desk chair, opposite the bed, and strokes his cock, head tilted and eyes fixed on Keith. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do last night?”

Keith sucks in a sharp breath. “Yes,” he admits, ducking his head. “But I — you — uh.”

“Want me to close my eyes?” Shiro asks. He’s teasing, mostly, but to his surprise Keith nods, his posture shy, withdrawn. Keith isn’t shy, not around Shiro. Keith’s never been shy, with Shiro, even if he’s awkward and prickly around strangers and weird about anyone hugging him, even their other friends. It’s always been easy, normal, for them to touch each other, to exist in the same space and never feel cramped. 

That’s why this thing between them is so easy. It was easy for Keith to shove his tongue down Shiro’s throat after one too many shots during a trip to a bar after Shiro got dumped by his boyfriend of two years. It was easy for Shiro to kiss him back. It was easy for Keith to jack him off in a dark corner at a friend’s frat house a week later, pounding bass covering their groans as Shiro returned the favor, and let Keith ride his thigh and ruin his jeans. 

It was easy, two weeks after that, in a filthy club bathroom, for Shiro to fall to his knees and bury his face in dark sweaty curls and inhale the scent of his best friend’s cock before dragging kisses down the flushed length until Keith begged him to come. It was easy for Keith to sink down on his dick after what felt like hours of teasing, legs hitched up around Shiro’s waist, nails raking down his back through a tank top soaked into translucence with sweat.

It was easy for Shiro to kiss him afterwards, then ruffle his hair and say, “Fuck, dude, that was good.” 

It was easy for Keith to laugh, only a little strained, and say, “Yeah. It was,” and lean against Shiro until Shiro could feel his heart breaking.

Because it  _ wasn’t  _ easy to go back to being just friends, after that. Friends with benefits feels like an empty title for what they are, but it is, Shiro knows,  _ exactly  _ what they are. They’re roommates. They’re best friends, although Shiro isn’t even sure about that, these days, because Keith has been spending more time with Pidge and Hunk than him. 

It’s difficult to hang out like they used to when Shiro’s slogging through his thesis and Keith is crushed under coursework. All they really have time for is this, and even that’s pushing it. They haven’t fucked in – shit, how many weeks has it been? Too many. Maybe that’s why Shiro’s running so hot, frustration thrumming under his skin as he watches Keith curl in on himself on the bed. 

Shiro exhales, trying to calm himself. Discomfort is written all over Keith’s face, and with a stab of guilt Shiro realizes they haven’t talked about this, about limits – not really. Shiro stands, and Keith flinches, uncertain, until Shiro sits on the edge of the bed and cups Keith’s face in his hands. “Hey,” he whispers. Keith leans into his touch at once, cheek warm against the cool metal of Shiro’s prosthetic. “Is this okay, Keith?” Keith swallows, staring at him. “Or is it too much?”

Slowly, Keith shakes his head. “It’s okay, Shiro,” he says, low. “But, I just – you really want that? To watch me –” He shivers.

_ “Yes,”  _ Shiro groans, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then all of it, as Keith tips his head up and slips his tongue into Shiro’s mouth, letting him suck on it like he sucks Keith’s cock, until Keith whimpers and pulls away. “Yes,” Shiro repeats. “Fuck. You’re so –”  _ Beautiful,  _ he wants to say.  _ The most beautiful goddamn person I’ve ever seen.  _ “Hot,” he says. “Really, really hot.”

Keith shoves him away, brow low and eyes wicked again. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, if that’s what you want, I will.”

Shiro grins, rises to his feet and returns to his chair. “You will, what?”

Keith’s one weak point is dirty talk, usually. Sure enough, his ears turn red. “Shuddup,” he mutters, and uncaps the lube. “Never said I had to be chatty about it.”

“Have it your way,” Shiro laughs, stretching a little and touching his cock again, in slow twisting pulls. 

“You’re a dick,” Keith informs him, and shoves a finger inside himself.  _ “Hah  _ – a hot dick, though.”

“I should gag you next time,” Shiro muses, and Keith whines, actually  _ whines. _ Shiro’s sure he looks as shocked as Keith. “Uh –” Shiro clears his throat. “Nevermind. Sorry.” Keith shoots him a look that is both murderous and frantic. “Carry on.”

Keith huffs, and twists his fingers, opening himself up fast. Shiro would tell him to slow down, but his cock aches, and the way Keith’s rim stretches around the plunging digit is as obscene as it is pretty. Keith’s breathing is shallow, and he shifts around on the bed, tilting his head back as his finger curls deeper. 

“Let me see you,” Shiro murmurs, “lift your leg up for me, sweetheart.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue without a thought, and Keith’s eyes snap open. “Sweetheart?” he demands. “Since when —  _ ah _ — do you call me sweetheart?” But he lifts his leg, spreads his thighs wide and props himself up on the pillows until Shiro has a first-class view of Keith fucking himself on two fingers, now.

Shiro gulps. He sets his jaw, tells himself this is just a game, just sex. That’s all Keith wants it to be, anyway. “Since you started behaving,” he says.

Keith’s fingers freeze. Then he spreads himself wider, pressing his face to his knee, and moans, loud. “Fuck. What the  _ fuck,  _ Shiro.”

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” Shiro teases, though his own breathing hitches, and his cock is heavy in his tightening fist. “Do you like being good for me?”

Keith bites his lip, tries to force a third finger in, but it slips around his rim, sloppy and still too tight. “Y-yes,” he says, “I — fuck, I can’t — I’m sorry, I —”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Shiro scolds. “Slow, Keith. Go slow. Think about how worth it it’ll be when it’s my cock inside you, mm? I’ll make it good for you. I promise. Just do this one little thing for me, first. I know you can do it, Keith.”

Keith doesn’t look at him, but he takes a few seconds to breathe, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, flips onto his stomach so that his ass is facing Shiro, and his cock hangs between his legs, filling out with every brush of his fingers against and in his hole. 

Shiro groans. “Just like that, baby,” he praises. Keith hides his face in his forearm, thrusting back on his hand, and the third finger slides in. He’s flushed red all over now, and bites at his arm when his fingers find their target, muffling the gorgeous sound which falls from his slack mouth. 

“Shiro — Takashi, please, need you,” Keith gasps, hand grasping at the sheets and fingers trying to spread his ass wider. Shiro can see that the angle is bad, but he can’t look away from the frustrated little rolls of Keith’s hips, the bob of his reddened cock, the curve of his spine and flex of powerful muscle, the freckles Shiro loves to kiss scattered across his inner thighs —

Keith makes the strangled moan that always comes close before orgasm and Shiro’s out of the chair and on him before he can even hope to follow through with that. Keith’s fingers curl out of his hole, exposing the dark, needy gape of it, a shape that yields nicely to the press of Shiro’s tongue. Keith shouts into the pillows. Shiro yanks his hips back and closes his fingers around the base of Keith’s cock in a tight ring. “Don’t,” he warns, and licks a stripe over his ass. “Not until I’m finished with you.”

Keith’s laugh is ragged. “Takashi Shirogane: astrophysics major by day, pornstar by night?”

“Only for you,” Shiro says. Keith shudders and goes silent, but he opens to Shiro’s fingers, and he starts begging for Shiro to fuck him once Shiro’s up to two, and by three he’s about ready to snap; Shiro can see it in his eyes.

Much as Shiro likes Keith riding him into the mattress, that’s not what he wants tonight. He settles fully on the bed behind Keith, making sure Keith’s head is near the pillows. Rather than using them as a cushion, though, Keith just shoves his face into them with a low, despairing moan. Shiro runs his hand over Keith’s back. “Ready?”

Keith flips him off. Shiro’s eyes narrow. “Yes,” Keith grumbles into the pillow, “of course I’m —  _ fuck!” _

Shiro will never get tired of the way Keith’s face crumples as he pushes in, nor of the way Keith’s ass clenches so perfectly around him, holds him in tight heat made wet where lube slicks the way. Shiro fucks him in small circles of his hips, knowing he wants more, but wanting this to last. Keith arches under him, and Shiro’s eyes trace the greedy lines, and he wonders, not without bitterness, who else will get to see Keith like this.

Shiro kisses his shoulder, pushes back Keith’s hair to say near his ear, “Who was it, then?”

Keith groans, cracking an eye open and pushing his ass back until he bottoms out, or rather, until Shiro grabs his hips and stops him halfway. Keith’s jaw works. “What?” he snaps. 

“Who did you think about when you were touching yourself, baby?” Shiro coaxes, kneading at his waist. Keith sighs and shudders, though his brow furrows, and his lips press into a thin line. “I know it was someone. You kept saying a name — almost.” Keith’s shuddering turns to shaking. He hides his face and Shiro’s kisses on his neck turn sharp, teeth grazing flushed skin. “Gonna make me guess?”

“Don’t,” Keith hisses, “Shiro, don’t, it doesn’t matter —”

“Was it that chem professor you told me about?” Shiro chuckles, dragging Keith’s hips back into his lap, fucking him now in short, sharp bursts. Keith’s breaths come out in pitchy grunts. “Dr. Kolivan, was it?” Shiro clicks his tongue. “Didn’t really take you as the type, but I could see you with a daddy kink.”

Keith gasps, face beet red. “Oh my god, what —  _ fuck you,  _ that’s not — it wasn’t —”

“Or maybe it was that James kid,” Shiro growls, nails digging into Keith’s thighs and ass, exposing the place where his cock drives in and out of his pink hole, the rim stretching and tugging on every thrust. “Was it him? Bet you could teach him a thing or two, he’s got the world’s biggest stick up his ass.”

Keith shakes his head frantically. “N-no, it wasn’t — wasn’t him.”

“Too bad,” Shiro says. “You’d fuck him so good. He’d be lucky to have you.”

Keith claws at the sheets. “Please —”

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” Shiro asks.

Keith doesn’t answer, just squirms, and reaches for his cock. It’s dripping a puddle onto the sheets. Shiro smacks his hand away. Keith groans. “I don’t think so,” Shiro tells him. “You’re gonna come on my cock. That’s it.”

Keith makes a broken noise. “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Shiro promises, and starts to pull out. Keith glances over his shoulder, eyes wild, but Shiro soothes him with a gentle hand. “It’s okay. Trust me?”

“Always,” Keith says. His voice is wrecked. Shiro is going to remember it for the rest of his life.

Keith’s head falls back to the pillows, and Shiro nudges at his waist. “Hips, up,” he orders. Keith obeys instantly. Shiro can’t help the,  _ “Good,”  _ that slips out afterwards; the need to praise Keith is practically innate.

So is the need to please Keith. Shiro slides his hand up Keith’s spine as he starts to move again, rocking in and out slower, but deeper, enough to make Keith mewl at the change in pace and angle. By the time Shiro’s hand curls around Keith’s throat, Keith’s body is tight and twitching around his cock, already close again. 

Shiro uses his left hand when he squeezes Keith’s neck, light pressure at first. He has sensation in his prosthetic, but not as much. He wants to fully feel the pound of Keith’s pulse, the rough scratch of his stubble, the warm slide of his sweat, the bob of his throat as he swallows and rasps, “Shiro…?”

“How’s that, baby?” Shiro murmurs, lips brushing over his ear, cock swelling inside Keith as he looks up at Shiro, eyes wide and dark. “You look so pretty like this.”

Keith’s lashes flutter when his fingers tighten. “Ah —  _ ah,  _ oh, god —” The words are cut off against Shiro’s firm grip. But Keith doesn’t protest. He goes limp, slumping into the sheets, but keeps his hips up, like a good boy.

Shiro leaves a line of proud kisses along the needy curve of Keith’s neck, and Keith’s lips part, panting as Shiro’s thumb digs into the soft space just below his jaw. “I know you can take it, baby,” he purrs. “Anything I give you, you always take it so well.” 

His other hand tightens in Keith’s hair, and Keith only gets the sting on his scalp as a warning before Shiro wrenches his head up and back, baring his throat, forcing him into half a backbend. Keith gasps soundlessly, uselessly, and Shiro hopes his fingers leave bruises. He hopes that whoever else gets the honor of having Keith in their bed sees those marks, and knows he made them, knows he did this to Keith before any of them.

Keith’s cock gives a shuddering twitch, his face screwed up in agonized bliss. The way Shiro fucks him is almost gentle, letting Keith ride his cock in shuddery backwards rolls, filling Keith the way he was begging for. 

He lets go of Keith’s hair to smooth his right hand down Keith’s chest, metal fingers teasing at peaked nipples, stroking over his belly, but never lower. Shiro’s thumb rubs at his jaw. “You’re so good for me, Keith,” he sighs, and loosens his grip, fully intending to finish this by fucking Keith properly, hard and fast, the way they usually do.

But as soon as his grip on Keith’s neck loosens, he chokes out, “It was you — I was thinking about  _ you _ — Shiro, please —“   
  
It’s a beautiful thing when he comes, untouched; Shiro is touching him everywhere else, holding Keith in shaky hands as his spine bows and he collapses onto the bed, cock pulsing. Shiro comes the second that Keith looks at him, because his face is wet, streaked with tears and spit and  _ want. _

“Baby,” Shiro breathes, reaching out, hazy through the dizzying climax, “you’re crying —”

Keith twists away, and his expression is awful, then, afraid and unsure and raw. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice still rough, ruined, “I didn’t mean to — you’re my best friend, Shiro. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose  _ you, _ I —”

Shiro makes a wounded sound. “No,” he says. “I’m not — Keith, I’m not going anywhere.” He blinks, trying to clear his head, and pulls out slowly, though he keeps his grip on Keith’s waist, half scared he’ll run away. But Keith doesn’t run. He watches him, a line between his brows, lower lip trembling. “I’m here, Keith,” Shiro says. “Okay? It’s okay —”

Keith sighs, and shakes his head. “It’s not okay,” he whispers, “to be in love with your best friend.”

Shiro looks at him, wondering. Keith hunches his shoulders. “You wanted to know,” he says. “That’s who it was. There’s nobody else, Shiro. Never been anyone else, not since we — since I kissed you at that stupid bar. It’s just — it’s only ever been you.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, and shifts closer.  _ “Keith.” _

“I can move out,” Keith mumbles, scrubbing his hands across his face, “if it makes you uncomfortable, because I don’t think I can just do this anymore when what I really want is —”

“Be my boyfriend,” Shiro blurts.

Keith’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I — uh. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Shiro stammers. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend, Keith.”

Keith gapes at him. “I. You, um. You do?”

“Yes,” Shiro gasps, and it’s a relief to say it, “Keith, yes, I’ve loved you since — forever, really. I don’t know when. I just — love you. Am in love with you. All that.”

Keith stares at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “You may be good at dirty talk, but not so much with talk, talk.”

“Talk talk?” Shiro repeats, incredulous, and Keith giggles, and lets Shiro half-tackle him to the bed. Keith’s arms wrap around Shiro’s middle, just holding him there. Shiro noses into Keith’s hair. After living with him for two years, Keith smells like home.

“I love you,” Keith says again, like he thinks Shiro is going to forget it, like those words won’t be echoing in his brain on repeat for the next few months, at least. 

“I love you too.” Shiro kisses his cheek. 

“You’re already my boyfriend,” Keith adds, a little shy. “Right?”

Shiro hums. “I hope not. I haven’t even taken you on a date and I already ate your ass and choked you.”

“A true gentleman,” Keith deadpans, and squeezes his ass, then taps the band of the snapback. “I was lying, by the way. You look good in this. It’s a look.”

Shiro grins into his neck and lifts his head. He’s giddy, and for once, he doesn’t care if there isn’t time. He’ll make time, for Keith, because Keith is worth every second.

“Let me take you on a date,” Shiro says. “Right now, let’s go.”

Keith’s face breaks into a bemused smile. “Now? It’s like —” He squints at the clock. “Shit, it’s like one in the morning already. Nothing’s open!”

“Sal’s Diner is open,” Shiro coaxes. “C’mon. It’s Friday. We can get breakfast early and sleep in late. I won’t even set an alarm. Scouts’ honor.”

“You make a convincing case…” Keith tilts his head. “Can we snuggle?” he asks very seriously.

Shiro loves him so much. “Absolutely,” he says. “All the snuggling. 24/7 snuggling. How is it that we’ve fucked every way possible but haven’t snuggled properly?”

“I don’t know, but you’re missing out. I’m a great snuggler,” Keith declares. “I get big spoon.”

“Of course,” Shiro says, hopelessly endeared. “I’d be honored to be your little spoon.”

“Then it’s a date,” Keith says. His eyes are shiny. Shiro kisses him, and he’s done it a million times before, but somehow it feels new. 

Maybe it’s the way Keith smiles against his lips, or the way familiar fingers slide with slow reverence over the back of his neck, or maybe it’s the way Keith looks at him when they part, like Shiro is the sun, moon, and stars, all in one.

*

They’ve gone to the diner a million times together before, too, but this time Keith holds Shiro’s hand, and shares a milkshake with him, and Shiro knows Keith is the best thing in his life, because he’s in love with his best friend, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
